


Chronicles of the Holy Grail

by chibi_onna



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alive!Harry, Arthur!Harry, Humor, M/M, Multi, One-sided Everyone/Eggsy, POV Outsider, except for Harry of course because that one's mutual, i think it qualifies for that tag at least, obliviously!seductive!Eggsy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_onna/pseuds/chibi_onna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all his Kingsman-level observation skills, Eggsy has no idea of his effect on people. Features obliviously!seductive!Eggsy and alive!Harry as well as Arthur!Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Kingsman: The Secret Service, nor do I acquire monetary compensation for writing fanfiction like this.
> 
>  
> 
> **~*~**
> 
>  
> 
>  **A/N:** It has finally happened. After a couple of weeks of staunch denial, I have succumbed to embracing the fact that I have become hartwin trash. This is my first fic for this fandom. Plot bunnies are buggering like crazy in my head and too many are being born too fast, which is more than my writing can actually keep up with. I apologise in advance for those who would be interested in seeing this story continued since **I UPDATE REALLY SLOWLY**. I have work and school to deal with, as well as bouts of writers block that sometimes go for months on end.
> 
> Also, **I am not British** (and although I’m good at the language, I’ve mostly been exposed to the American variety), and this is my first time trying to write in British English. This story has not been Brit-picked, but I have tried my best. If you do have suggestions/corrections for me, please do not hesitate to leave them in a comment. I apologise to all you native speakers in advance if I've written something wrong.

It made a whole lot of sense that Harry would be the one destined to find Eggsy and bring him into Kingsman; after all, the knight after whom his first alias was named had been equally fated to find and bear the ever-elusive Holy Grail. It was with this sound logic that every other agent and staff besides the aforementioned pair started to use this moniker to refer to the current Galahad when they were sure neither would ever hear. It was clever, especially given the fact that, appealing and well sought-after as he was, Eggsy was as untouchable as the legendary  _San Graal_ . Everyone had been quick to learn this lesson, and had equal parts sympathy and schadenfreude for those who required the education (they never failed to watch though, and Merlin had taken to recording it all for those who missed it, not even once thinking that it was a gross misappropriation of Kingsman resources). Neither a shot to the head nor a couple of years away from the field had diminished Arthur’s viciousness in the slightest, something that had been proven time and again.

 

But however much the lesson’s been ingrained in reluctant brains, it hadn’t prevented the raw desire and yearning elicited by every careless gesture, open expression, or spoken word—regardless of personal preferences (Lancelot would pick a bird over a bloke every time, but she’d given up denying that her heart fluttered a bit whenever her best mate smiled). It was bloody terrifying for a single person to have this much power, and they’ve all wondered at some point if it were a boon or a curse that Eggsy had absolutely no idea that he even had it. Oh he was a damn good agent alright, sharp and observant as the best of them but somehow it all eludes him outside of honeypot missions. The effect he had on non-asexual people who weren’t his mum, his sister, or Roxy (she wasn’t exactly impervious to it, but they were practically bros so the effect’s dampened by much) was just that utterly devastating to say the least. What more if he’d been aware of and unafraid to use it? Eggsy had grown and flourished in Kingsman—a true diamond in the rough, exquisitely cut and polished to perfection. The most precious jewel in the coffers of Arthur’s heart, he was; the only selfishness the king would ever afford himself and damn if he wouldn’t fight like hell to keep this gem all to himself.

 

It was difficult to stay on top of guarding his lad’s honour though, for the sheer amount of occurrences that he found offensive enough to warrant his wrath (that is to say, pretty much everything), not even counting the ones that happened a great deal before he had known exactly how he felt about the boy.

 

It was thus both a source of amusement as much as dread when Merlin (bless his asexual soul) had taken it upon himself to collect each of these instances in what is now probably one of the most heavily-protected pieces of technology related to Kingsman internal affairs: the tablet that later became famously (or infamously, as the case may be) named _‘ **The Chronicles of the Holy Grail’**_.


	2. Charlie Hesketh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Casualty # 1, Charlie Hesketh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** The response to the prologue I posted a while back was unreal. I’ve never had that much kudos, bookmarks, hits, or comments in a space of 24 hours! I’m so loving this fandom with how responsive a lot of you are. Thank you for all that, you have no idea how important response is to me and my writing. I just hope you’ll find this instalment just as enjoyable.

Charlie Hesketh sized up the competition and found with a smirk that yes, he would surely be the next Lancelot if the plebes around him were anything to go by. The only real contender that could potentially pose enough of a threat was that blonde bird with the russet-coloured boots, and that was being generous because, not to be sexist or anything, but she _was_ a girl. A most stupid and disgusting thing crossed his mind before a lecherous grin crawled on his face.

 

_Perhaps she could be good for something else then._

 

Charlie fancied himself a modern-day Casanova, effortlessly sweeping women off their feet and charming them all with an easy smile and witty conversation. People would take one look and immediately nod their heads and agree that he was one of those ladies-man types. At least, that was what he truly believed. He would have the girl begging for it before the selection ended. Little did Charlie know that for all the pretty in that petite and delicate-looking package, Roxy was tough as nails and had abso-bloody-lutely no interest in men. There was no hope to be had for Charlie. Poor bloke’s delusional.

 

Just then, the door opened and in came this... this unrefined, tasteless chav who had the audacity to have the most captivating blue-green eyes on the planet— _wait what?_

 

At the moment he had no time to ponder further as their bald-headed handler proceeded to brief them. He had to have single-minded focus or at least look like it, raising his hand to answer, “Body bag, sir,” while totally not preening at the peripheral sight of the not-unattractive newcomer staring at him outright as he got acknowledgement for his correct response. The blue-capped head turned to face back front.

 

“Correct. Charlie, isn’t it?”

 

It was too easy. He’d be Lancelot in no time. “Yes sir.”

 

“Good,” Merlin answered.

 

For some odd reason, the chav’s head snapped to the side to face him again and Charlie met the gaze head on, letting out a little smirk before giving his attention back to the rest of the briefing. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, which Charlie attributed to the praise he got from their handler. It was the only possible explanation, after all.

 

They were dismissed and Merlin saw himself out the door, leaving them to their own devices. Each potential recruit went straight to their assigned cots to get started on their body bags.

 

“Roxanne. But call me Roxy.”

 

Charlie turned to see the girl holding out a hand to the latecomer. A sharp twinge of annoyance made his eyebrow twitch.

 

“I’m Eggsy.”

_Jesus fucking Christ!_

 

Goose pimples raced up Charlie’s arms at the sound of that sinful voice.

 

“Eggy?”

 

“No. Eggsy.”

 

Let it not be said that Charlie did not take advantage of the opportunity. He was nothing if not an opportunist.

 

“Eggy? Now where did they dig you up?” he asked, eyeing Eggsy up and down, making sure not to miss a detail.  Charlie curled his lower lip over his teeth and licked it despite himself. A sight for sore eyes, this one was.

 

Roxy told him off and the lackeys on either side of his bed took it as a signal to move in. He said nothing and just hummed at whatever it was that Digby said, his eyes still too busy trying to take off each piece of offending clothing covering that body in an impotent attempt to satisfy his curiosity.

 

The pissing contest started with the condescending introductions, quickly degenerating to Eggsy’s education, or lack thereof.

 

“St. Andrews?” he contributed, but basically left the others to run the show. His staring couldn’t be bothered. Was the body under all those baggy clothes as delicious for his eyes as the timbre of his voice was to his ears? Similar questions ran lazily through Charlie’s mind. The conversation flew over his head until Rufus decided it was high time to move in for the kill.

 

“Oh wait, I think we may have met. Did you serve me at the McDonald’s in Winchester Service Station?” Rufus was too eager. Must be his first time dishing it out like this.

 

Charlie saw the change in Eggsy’s stance, shoulders inching back a little, chin jutting out in proud defiance.

_A fighter. Interesting._

 

Charlie may not have known it, but his reaction was further proof that posh blokes loved a bit of rough.

 

“No, but I’ve rather’d give you an extra ‘elpin’ o’ secret sauce,” was the reply, complete with his right hand jacking the air.

_I’d like some of that._

 

It was wholly unclear if Charlie was referring to the rude gesture or the secret sauce. He wasn’t really thinking, somewhat running on autopilot. The thick South London accent might have short-circuited his brain a little.

 

“He’s definitely St. Andrews,” he managed to let out.

 

He turned away with the bully squad and just smiled, nodded, and laughed at whatever they were saying to degrade Eggsy further. Eventually the group broke up to fix their things and start getting ready for the night. The thoughts he’d been having about Eggsy all evening and what it all meant didn’t really sink in; although it finally slammed onto him like a hundred-tonne derailed freight train when Charlie saw Eggsy languidly stretch before getting in bed without a shirt on, droplets of water missed in toweling off sliding over a beautifully sculpted torso.

_No. Fuck no._

Eyes wide at the rude realisation, he let himself fall on his cot, making sure his lower half was under the covers. He wasn't about to let anyone know he was pitching a tent, and for their resident chav no less! He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

_I am so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I had to watch the scene over and over to get exactly what everyone said. Good thing I had some time before being busy again. I hope this holds you up until I get around to writing the next chapter. If you’re interested, you could give me ideas on who you want me to do next (besides the one immediately after this because I already have plans for the next one) and some prompt that satisfies your fancy for that person. Who knows, if it fits with my vision, you could just as well see it written out for you! 
> 
> Again, feedback would be very much appreciated. Cheers!


	3. Downtime Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys in the batch learn from Roxy that there is no shame in finding one Gary "Eggsy" Unwin attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So far, in my short life of being hartwin trash, you guys have never ceased to amaze me. Thank you for all the wonderful comments, bookmarks, and kudos. I just hope you guys will continue to enjoy this story as it goes along. Thanks guys, really.

It wasn’t often that the potential recruits got such a lengthy downtime, but they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Merlin had just announced that they had the rest of the day to do as they pleased, but it struck the rest of them a little odd that he dismissed them all bar Eggsy. The five recruits found themselves going back to their sleeping quarters, some tending to their dogs while others just sat on their cots. Silence reigned in the area until Hugo decided to break it.

 

“Do you guys reckon Eggsy’s finally being kicked out?”

 

Charlie’s head snapped up, his expression neutral despite the unpleasant roil in his stomach. For all the wicked attraction he felt for the other boy, he was and always will be an insufferable prick.

 

“Good riddance, I say.”

 

The three other males in the room snickered, but there was definitely something that made the cacophony of sound fall flat.

 

Roxy frowned. “I don’t think he’s going home.” When she saw their blank looks (which, on hindsight would actually reveal some signs of hope in their eyes), she expounded. “It’s just not logical. The latest test had just been given and two of us just got sent back.” She huffed, annoyed that they didn’t even try a logical approach. “But you know what? I don’t think I want him to go, even if I really want the job. Know what I mean?” she asked, looking at each of them in turn. Seemingly finding what she was looking for, Roxy smirked like the cat that got four canaries for the price of one. “Of course you do.”

 

“And what exactly are you implying, Roxy?” Digby asked, eyebrow cocked in false bravado.

 

“Oh, why not start with you?” Roxy’s was the face of the devil himself. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how your hand lingered a bit too long on that handshake the first day back.”

 

Digby spluttered.

 

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Oh come off it, I know all of you have had an episode or two,” she glanced at Charlie, “or five in feeling something else for Eggsy. Even I’m not entirely safe from it, and I’m a lesbian. Fuck if that smile isn’t the most adorable one in the universe. Be glad you haven’t seen it. You’ll shit rainbows.”

 

The other four looked at each other.

 

_Huh._

 

Rufus bit his lip. “I suppose I shouldn’t have made that McDonald’s comment back then.” He shifted uneasily, remembering all those nights he would wonder about exactly how that extra helping of secret sauce would taste.

 

Digby groaned. “Yeah, you shouldn’t have. I hated you for that. I don’t think I can eat at McDonald’s without ever thinking about that. Fuck you.”

 

Charlie leapt to his feet. “Seriously guys, what the fuck?”

 

“Shut up Charlie! Don’t think I don’t notice how much you try to rile him up just to get a reaction! It’s like pulling pigtails in the playground all over again! Honestly.” Roxy was just so done with these dickheads.

 

Hugo grinned, “More than that, I think you pulled that water prank the other night just to make Eggsy get out of his shirt. Thanks, I guess? I was sort of dying to see those pecs and abs all night again since this room became a surprise aquarium,” he laughed.

 

Rufus and Digby looked like they were having an epiphany. “Oh.” A pause. “ _Oh._ ”

 

Charlie sat back down on his cot, head in his hands. After gathering himself, he finally let go. “You guys have no idea how much torture I was in on that marksmanship exercise.” They had been assigned as partners, crouching under an isolated brush in a very cramped space. “I had to mock his written test results just to keep my focus (Roxy scoffed, thinking Charlie would’ve done it regardless). He was so close I could feel his body heat. I had goose pimples on my arms and it wasn’t even cold! And oh god, I could fucking smell him. I don’t understand! How could he smell that good? We all have the same standard-issue scentless soap for Christ’s sake! I had to stay there on my stomach far longer than he did so he wouldn’t see the tent in my fucking pants.”

 

Anybody could practically feel the waves of both sympathy and envy swirling in the room at the declaration.

 

A look of comprehension dawned on Hugo’s eyes, “So that was you rubbing one out that night. I thought maybe all that quiet moaning was someone getting a nightmare.”

 

Roxy threw her head back and laughed like she’d never laughed before. “Oh my god, this is fucking gold,” she ground out, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes.

 

It was to their good fortune that they hadn’t been talking more at that point, because Eggsy chose that precise moment to burst through the door with JB in tow, face bright as the sun. Harry had woken up from his coma and everything was right in his world. The sight of _his_ Harry up and about, praising his hard work, eyes full of pride and fondness all for him made his heart pulse with life. Eggsy’s happiness was so great that his face practically shone with it, exuding that boyishly charming smile like a gift from heaven. He failed to notice the other five’s glassy-eyed expressions as he went straight to Roxy and tugged at her hand, inviting her to go out to walk their dogs on the grounds because wasn’t it such a beautiful day?

 

“Yes, yes, a beautiful day,” Roxy smiled back when she snapped out of it, telling him to go ahead and that she’ll follow shortly. Grabbing her poodle’s leash, she set for the door, stopping and turning as she reached it.

 

“Shit any rainbows yet?”

 

The door closed, the silence in the room a great contrast to Roxy’s laugh echoing in the halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I was supposed to have finished this yesterday, but I was too tired and fell asleep. I left the laptop on (again), and it’s a good thing it didn’t fall off my bed. Tell me what you think, yeah?
> 
> And if you want to be friends (I love making new friends!) you can find me on tumblr! I’m **[mybangsareblonde](http://mybangsareblonde.tumblr.com/)**. Ta!


	4. Eyes on the Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to bring your A-game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** You guys are bloody amazing. Wonderful response, as usual. Please keep spoiling me like this so my writing mojo never goes away *hint hint*. Anyway, sorry for the wait, but I did warn you that I’m a slow updater, yeah? Also, this chapter isn’t supposed to exist, but the idea wiggled its way in the middle of everything and kinda wrote itself??? The original idea I was supposed to be writing for this update will be moved to the next one.

“This can’t go on.”

 

Digby’s agitation was clear as he paced around their shared quarters.

 

“No shit, Sherlock. We’ve been over this!” Rufus shot back, getting on his feet.

 

Hugo held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Guys, I think we should just calm down and—”

 

“Calm down? _Calm down?!_ I have wanted to become a Kingsman agent for a long, long time. I’ve never wanted anything this bad in my entire life. Do you understand me? In my entire life! And now here I am, thinking that I could be ready to give it all up just because I was graced by _that_ smile from a chav with _that_ face and _that_ body even if I’m NOT even remotely gay and you’re telling me to calm down?! NO! I WILL NOT CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”

 

“I get it, okay?! We all do! But you freaking out over this is not helping us any,” Rufus sat back down and held his head in his hands. “Stop having this… this panic attack and start fucking thinking on how we’re all going to survive this.”

 

Charlie had been unusually quiet since Roxy’s departure, elbows on his knees and nose pressing against steepled fingers. He understood where Digby was coming from, probably on an even deeper level. He had his name, his pride, and ambition on the line. He had to fucking wake up and put things in perspective. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by his admittedly not-so-little infatuation with someone who could ( _not that he really could_ , he thinks rather arrogantly) take this away from him. His eyes steeled.

 

_I am here because I will be Lancelot._

 

He was Charlie Hesketh and nothing and no one could stand in his way if he could help it.

 

* * *

The jumping exercise sent Rufus, Digby, and Hugo home. Charlie miraculously got his head in the game without any episodes of him mooning over Eggsy over something or other. However, things have a way of catching up with you once you’ve lowered your guard.

 

Charlie, Eggsy, and Roxy sat in a semi-circle in front of the telly as they kept up with world news, for now just taking every bit of rest they could after their earlier somewhat traumatic experience. Their dogs were in the room with them too, quietly lying on their own mats. Well, two of them were. Even back when the dogs were still pups, everyone unanimously agreed that Eggsy spoiled J.B. rotten, despite his excellent training. The pug was the only pup allowed to sleep on the bed, for crying out loud. And now, J.B. was blissfully lounging on his human’s lap, enjoying the warmth and comfort and the occasional rub from those long and slender fingers…

 

_Fuck!_

 

And it was back. In his head, Charlie cursed everything seven ways into Sunday. His internal swear-fest was only interrupted by Merlin’s entrance, as well as their new assignment. He opened the manila envelope and pulled out one of the photos and held it up.

 

“Who’s this?”

Merlin was quick to reply. “Your target. Your mission is to use your NLP training to win over the individual on the photograph in your envelope. And when I say ‘win over’, I do mean in the biblical sense.”

 

Charlie swivelled his head as he heard Eggsy’s voice dripping with confidence.

 

“Easy. Posh girls love a bi’ o’ rough.”

 

_Apparently posh blokes do too, thanks to you._

 

“We’ll see about that, yeah?” It was a wonder that Charlie was able to throw that back so fast despite his inner musings.

 

“We certainly will.” Roxy held up the very same photo.

 

Eggsy got up, J.B. in his arms (fucking dog’s so lucky—no he was not jealous of a fucking dog, are you taking a piss?!) and envelope in his hands. “I dunno abou’ you guys but I’m gonna go and get ready.” He left without another word, Merlin following him through the exit.

 

Roxy looked at Charlie.

 

“I hate to say this but we’re probably going to lose.”

 

Charlie clenched his teeth.

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

Sophie was so excited to start her little mission to play target for the potential Lancelots that she arrived quite early at the club. It was a bit ill in form, but then she thought her eagerness should be pardoned, given that people in Merlin’s department rarely ever physically get in on the action. She could get literally physical, and what a delightful thought that was! She almost giggled at her own thoughts. She wouldn’t mind being seduced by any of the three remaining candidates; no, not at all. They were all easy on the eyes, and it was always a good ego-booster to have strong, dangerous, beautiful people like that vying for one’s attention. She checked herself over on the full-length mirror for the last time before making her way out of the ladies’ room, only to fall over as she collided against someone as she stepped into the corridor. Or she would have, if not for the strong arms that caught her in a rather dramatic-looking dip.

 

“Whoa, sorry, di’nt see ya there,” came the voice of her saviour. He peered at her face. “You okay?”

 

Sophie felt her heart stop as her senses went haywire. His voice was a lover’s caress to her ears, threatening to make goose pimples erupt on every patch of her skin, his smell was addicting—oh he smelled so delicious she just wanted to bury her nose into that delectable-looking neck (and she damn well would lick and suck on it if she could)—the feel of his toned body against hers was utterly divine, his body heat very much a notable thing in their close proximity, and to top it off she was drowning in eyes the colour of the sea, not quite sure if they were more blue or green in the dim lighting. A moment passed and she thankfully remembered how to breathe.

 

“Y-yes I am. Could you let me up now?”

 

She almost regretted saying it (she wanted to stay that way for a while longer), but she contented herself with the boyishly coy smile and cheeky wink he graced her. Any kind of smile from this one should be illegal. The boy was fucking dangerous.

 

“Not quite how I wanted to meet a bird pretty as you, but I ain’t complainin’.” By god, she could swear on her life right now that she got wet just from the sound of his voice and accent alone. It wasn’t helping that his hands were still on her. “Name’s Eggsy. You are?” God damn those sexy flirtatious smiles!

 

“Sophie,” she replied breathlessly. She hardly noticed that she was still holding on to his jacket, garish as it was. “And no, that wasn’t so bad,” she flirted back and smiled charmingly. It was like an automatic reaction, you know? You can’t not flirt back when Eggsy Unwin flirts with you.

 

“No,” Eggsy smirked as he tugged her close enough for their breaths to mingle, “it wasn’t.”

 

Eyes focusing down on his tongue as it flicked out to wet his perfect lips, Sophie was sure she was a goner. Might as well enjoy it to the fullest, yeah?

 

* * *

All three candidates were still down, undergoing the mandatory medical checks before they were due for a rude awakening on the train tracks. Sophie, now sporting more comfortable clothes and a lab coat walked into the bullpen. Her colleagues in agent-handling and research were gathered there, no doubt monitoring security cameras that surrounded the couch when she was down there.

 

Amelia, who had yet to schedule her flight back to Berlin, greeted her as soon as she came in. “Oh my god, Ben’s been insufferable.” Ben was the only one who placed a bet that all three would fail to effectively seduce the mark, i.e. Sophie. Everyone else had their money on Charlie or Roxy. Well, everyone except Merlin and Amelia who placed their bets on Eggsy winning all the way.

 

Sophie smiled at her friend, a dust of pink making its way to her cheeks. “Wait for it.”

 

Merlin entered the room, strides controlled and purposeful as always.

 

“Hey boss,” Ben greeted. “Pay up. No offense, but it feels really good to beat the bloody legendary Merlin’s Intuition™.” He laughed boisterously.

 

Merlin cocked an eyebrow with a smirk and simply tapped away some commands on his clipboard tablet. The huge screen on the wall was suddenly awash with light and movement, a security feed from the club’s hallway leading to the restrooms, timestamped a couple of hours earlier. Sophie cleared her throat and went for the water dispenser out in the hallway, grabbing her tumbler from her work station as she passed it.

 

She must’ve misjudged the time it would take to go get water and come back because she arrived just in time to see the huge screen featuring her receiving an absolutely envy-inducing filthy frencher from Eggsy fucking Unwin. Being a gentleman, Merlin cut the feed as soon as his point had been made.

 

“Amelia, go ahead and collect. Place my half of the winnings on my desk on your way out.”

 

Amelia just nodded dumbly and turned to Sophie.

 

“Um, that was…”

 

“Yeah.” Sophie drank from her tumbler. Her throat was dry as the Sahara.

 

“Wow.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Did you—?”

 

Sophie said nothing more, but her extremely red face was probably answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So yeah, I noticed that Sophie was practically making eyes at Eggsy when she suggested he get a drink like hers (so it could be that they’ve met and done something even before Roxy and Charlie ever made it to the club). Also, he was the only one she responded to with actual hints of flirtatiousness in canon. Eggsy can be scarily lethal when he uses his seduction powers consciously!
> 
> Tell me what you think, yeah? And if you want, you can also find me on [tumblr](http://mybangsareblonde.tumblr.com)! It’s always nice to have new friends.


	5. Percival Morton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No amount of Kingsman training or experience can withstand the force of nature that is Eggsy Unwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Unbelievable. You guys are unbelievable. Thank you so much for all the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and comments (especially the comments omg these things keep me going, especially when I get rough days). Your support for this story truly warms my heart.
> 
> Anyway, enough about that, I’m such a sap, I know. I hope you guys will also enjoy this one: I put in one particular thing that I noticed when I was watching Kingsman for the nth time. Not sure if you noticed it too but it was fucking gold. I’ll tell you what it is specifically in the end notes. XD

It was kind of odd that Percival Morton shared the same name as his agent alias, but he supposed it made the transition between his personal and professional lives a little bit easier. However, this does mean that the lines between the two said lives would somewhat blur in the course of time, as they were marginally easier to cross. Not that he’d slip and compromise either, of course. He rose above all the candidates in his class for his place at the table, and it was well-earned indeed. The blur bled a little in his interactions with his precious niece though, but he would never regret it. Not one bit.

 

Percival was confident in his nominee’s abilities; he was, after all, the one who groomed her as such from a young age. Survival exercises designed and practised as games, marksmanship lessons for sport, martial arts for recreation—he gave her all of these and more to equip his darling niece to protect herself as well as others in this beautiful yet infinitely dangerous world. And although his influence on her was great, he never once forced his beliefs or ideologies on her. This was perhaps the only reason why he hadn’t been estranged from his brother’s family for even thinking of nominating her for Kingsman. It probably also helped that it was Roxy herself who sought him out once the clever girl realised that he was not the kind of tailor he’d always said he was.

 

His dear, sweet Roxanne had grown up beautiful, sharp, and deadly. A decent human being too, judging from Merlin’s reports on the interactions among the candidates (except of course, he already knew that, having known her all her life). She seemed to be getting on especially well with Galahad’s pick, and the way she smiled fondly at the boy made him curious. Polite and courteous as she was, it was not easy to get into her good graces, much less have her making that expression in the short time the two have known each other. He had seen the pair walking their dogs on the grounds just moments before, on his way to visit Galahad in the medical wing (old chap had better not get into the habit of going into comas). So yes, his curiosity was justifiably piqued; and curiosity, as we all know, killed the cat.

 

Percival entered the room just as Merlin was getting out, the two nodding to each other in greeting before going their separate ways. Paying no heed to the door closing behind him, Percival’s eyes fell on his fellow knight who was now up and about, classy as ever even when casually clad in his red robe.

 

“Good to see you awake, Galahad.”

 

The older man turned to regard him genially. “Thank you, Percival. It’s nice of you to come for a visit despite your busy schedule; though you needn’t have troubled yourself.”

 

“Nonsense, you are an esteemed colleague, it’s no trouble at all. Besides, I happened to have just come back from a mission. I will have a debriefing with Arthur later this evening.” Percival’s eyes caught sight of the screen displaying the final six candidates for the position of Lancelot. Tilting his head that way, he commented, “I see your boy made it thus far.”

 

If not for his own Kingsman training, Percival would have had both brows up his hairline at the unmistakable fondness as well as fierce pride that was blatantly on display on Galahad’s face, not to mention how the other agent’s pupils dilated right after the words _‘your boy’_ left Percival’s lips. It was a tad disconcerting, considering how open his colleague’s countenance was at the moment. It was unanimously known that Galahad was the best agent in Kingsman to date, he had been for years in every aspect of the business. The unflappable Harry Hart was not as unflappable, it seemed. Gary Unwin became curiouser and curiouser in his eyes.

 

“Your lovely niece as well,” came the polite reply.

 

They made inconsequential small talk, nothing of real importance, and Percival took his leave after wishing the other well. It was a few hours yet until he had to report to Arthur for his debriefing. It wouldn’t hurt to spend his idle time in some productive research.

 

* * *

 

 

As was customary, all footage and pertinent information on Kingsman candidates were collected and stored in archives under their respective names upon nomination. Percival made himself comfortable on a private workstation and accessed Gary Unwin’s file. The profile was wrought with unrealised potential, and Percival found himself both impressed and a little bit disappointed. Though rooting for his niece all the way, he was fair enough to admit that Gary was quite a contender for the position. It was a shame that only one could be selected from this pool. It was his most humble and honest opinion that the organisation would benefit the most if they took both Gary and Roxy on. All the other candidates couldn’t hold a candle to the two, except maybe for that Hesketh boy, but that one needed a lot of attitude adjustments (he somehow doubted Arthur’s nominee would make it through the loyalty test, if he made it that far).

 

He clicked on a thumbnail of Galahad sitting across Gary in a bar, a video that was most likely pulled from a security camera. He was disappointed that there wouldn’t be any audio, and was pleasantly surprised when sound spilled forth from the work station’s speakers. The techies must have synchronised the audio from Galahad’s glasses’ feed so there wouldn’t be multiple and separate files of the same thing. How utterly convenient.

 

It was interesting to know that Gary was the son of a former candidate—he had no idea, since the topic never really came up and he himself became a knight a few years after James had become Lancelot—and Lee was Galahad’s proposal too, which explained the emotional outburst in the recorded conversation (even if Galahad’s tone was even, it was rather heavy with disappointment and his words were harsher than what could be expected from the man, which Percival correctly chalked up to Harry being too emotionally invested). Percival found his respect for the boy increase as the talk continued. Life wasn’t fair, and Percival was regretful that Eggsy had gotten the short end of the stick growing up. He hardly noticed that he had started to refer to the boy in a more familiar manner in his head.

 

“Manners. _-click-_ Maketh. _-click-_ Man. _-click-_ Do you know what that means?”

 

Percival snorted. Galahad always had a flair for the dramatics. What came next, however, made his jaw drop.

 

Percival had known that Galahad was always a sight to behold when he fights, bearing personal witness on occasional collaborations; but the eruption of movement on the screen was pure grace, an art form in and of itself, a display of skills hardly warranted by a petty bar fight. And suddenly it clicked. Eyes wide with realisation, Percival just stared at the monitor even as the screen turned black at the video’s end. He never thought he would see the day.

 

_Harry Hart had been fucking showing off._

 

* * *

 

 

Days passed and all too soon, Percival found himself cutting Roxy off from the train tracks, never a doubt in his mind that his girl would make it past that hurdle. He escorted her up to the control room where Merlin sat to view the whole thing. Upon their arrival, he saw that the staff had just finished setting up for Eggsy.

 

Merlin pressed the intercom button. “On your mark, Galahad.”

 

The agent on the screen raised his hand to signal his readiness.

 

Percival barely paid attention to the happenings on the screen, already expecting the outcome. If that audio file of Eggsy just a few hours before his recruitment was anything to go by, there was no doubt that the boy would pass this test with flying colours. Instead, Percival’s mind wandered. He was still bewildered by the revelation he’d had that fateful day he opened the Pandora’s Box that was Eggsy’s file. It was painfully evident that Galahad had yet to come to the same realisation as he did, and to be frank, Percival had conflicting feelings regarding this matter. He found himself being increasingly interested in Eggsy since that fateful day, and it had been a delight to watch his progress throughout the program (Percival did go through Eggsy’s entire archive, after all; conveniently failing to notice that he had turned into a creepy stalker in the process). He was drawn to the boy’s natural tactical ability, his instinctual leadership skills, his beautiful marksmanship, and his innate nobility (which had nothing at all to do with bloodlines but everything with strength of character); but this was just him being appreciative of skill worthy of admiration. Nothing at all like how Galahad seemed to feel for the boy, given the subtle evidences of baser instincts taking over where Eggsy was concerned. Percival had no doubts that Galahad was on his way to falling in love with Eggsy if he wasn’t there already—Harry just didn’t know it yet. It was a good thing that Percival didn’t feel any sexual attraction towards the boy on top of everything else. Bearing witness to Galahad’s professional skill set would deter anyone from going after what he perceived as his. It was suicide. Plain and simple.

 

But as Charlie Hesketh failed the test and Merlin congratulated Galahad and himself, Percival’s eyes couldn’t help but stray to that fit, young body and the way the too-tight jeans clung to that perfectly-shaped arse. It was only when he and Roxy were alone and the heavy silence was cut by his niece’s words (a product of her exceptional powers of observation) that it all crashed down on him.

 

“I know, Uncle Percy. But trust me, you don’t want to go there.” Roxy had no idea how spot on she really was, given that she didn’t know anything about Galahad, much less his history with Eggsy.

 

Percival Morton had officially fallen to the charms of Eggsy Unwin.

 

Who was all but claimed by Harry Hart, Kingsman spy extraordinaire.

 

_Well, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So I noticed that Percival was suspiciously looking like he was stealing glances of Eggsy and his wonderful arse while Merlin was debriefing them. His eyes were practically flicking from Merlin to Eggsy and back again the whole time. Good canon material here for all you Percival x Eggsy shippers! You’re welcome. XD I also took liberties in assigning Percival's name to be.. well, Percival! LOL XD And… it was too late when I remembered that the last selection process in canon was the one where Lee died so it couldn’t have been possible for Percival to become an agent after that, so please forgive this little oversight.
> 
> Keep the comments coming! I’d like to know what you think. Also, comments tend to push me along and add more juice to my inspiration levels, which lead to brilliant ideas and slightly faster updates *hint hint* XD
> 
> And if you want to talk and connect, my ask box in tumblr is always open!


	6. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24 hours that had nothing to do with Jack Bauer and everything to do with Harry Hart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Everybody has been incredible to me. I thank you all for that. And so I present all you hartwin trash with a little treat. Mind you, this chapter isn’t supposed to exist but yeah, I put it out here anyway. It just wouldn't leave me the hell alone. Enjoy! XD

As Kingsman tradition allowed, the final two candidates vying for a position at the table would spend twenty-four hours with the agent who proposed them. It was to the knights’ discretion what last-minute things to impart to their respective protégés and where to do so, provided of course that they would give nothing away about the dog test.

 

Percival and Roxy would most likely go to the Morton family manor, given the direction that their cab had taken. It was common for agents with proposed family members to go back to the nest to relax and get some semblance of normalcy before the big day. Harry, having no more blood family to speak of, had never put up a relative as his pick and had always arranged for a meeting with his candidates either at the park or at a quiet little café after a good night’s rest. A mostly solitary gentleman, Harry never invited any of them to his home; not even Lee Unwin, whom he had taken a particular shine to. His house was his sanctuary: his and his alone, and he strove to keep it that way.

 

Except of course, things never stay the same where Eggsy Unwin was concerned.

 

* * *

“To pee or not to pee.”

 

“That was the headline the day after I defused a dirty bomb in Paris.”

 

“Germany-1 England-5.”

 

“Missed that game. I was breaking up an undercover spy ring at the Pentagon.”

 

Harry Hart’s voice was the sound of absolute self-assuredness as he promptly sated his protégé’s curiosity about his rather unusual choice of décor in his home office. Harry was no braggart—he was too much of a gentleman for that—but he found himself happily recounting mission after successful mission with perfect and instant recall as Eggsy read out each tabloid headline that caught his fancy. Harry lounged comfortably on his swivel chair throughout the exchange, not at all posturing nonchalance to appear suave in response to the awe he saw on his boy’s face, because that would be most ungentlemanly—and Harry Hart was anything but.

 

His eyes followed the lithe, graceful body as it moved back, arm raised to point at the front page featuring Princess Diana and Prince Charles sharing a kiss after their wedding.

 

“My first mission.” Harry had his superior Kingsman experience to thank for not breaking off right then as he got distracted by the adorably expectant look on Eggsy’s face. “Foiled the assassination of Margaret Thatcher.”

 

His eyes subtly followed Eggsy as the lad walked towards the seat opposite his table. The dim lights cast a softness to his boy’s features that prevented him from looking away, but he forced himself to instead look around at the neatly tacked tabloid pages on the walls.

 

“Not everybody would thank you for that one.”

 

It would be easy to mistake Harry’s tone as one of arrogance as he matter-of-factly lectured Eggsy on the thanklessness of the job given Kingsman’s level of discretion, a hint of disdain colouring his voice as he talked of celebrity nonsense making front-page news (no, it was definitely not arrogance because that was ungentlemanly too). As a supplement to this, he continued, “A gentleman’s name should appear on the newspaper only three times: when he’s born, when he marries, and when he dies; and we are, first and foremost, gentlemen.”

 

“That’s me fucked then. Jus’ like Charlie said. I’m just a plebe.” There was defeated sadness in his boy’s tone and Harry’s heart surged with the need to assuage it. And who was Charlie to make his Eggsy feel less than what he really was? Harry felt a sense of smug satisfaction replace his rage as he reminded himself that Charlie Hesketh had already proven himself unworthy of being a Kingsman.

 

“Nonsense. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s birth. Being a gentleman is something one learns.” He watched carefully as Eggsy’s expression slowly eased into hopefulness.

 

“Yeah, bu’ how?”

 

Harry basked in his mentee’s undivided attention and reinforced his resolve to try and teach him everything he could.

 

“Alright, first lesson: you should have asked me before you took a seat.”

 

The look of shame that crossed Eggsy’s face did not belong there, and though Harry thought the lesson was necessary, he would do all that he could to make the resulting expression go away. And he had just the thing.

 

“Second lesson: how to make a proper martini.”

 

The smile that spread a glowing warmth in his chest was his reward.

 

“Yes, Harry.”

 

* * *

Downstairs, they went past the dining hall and entered the kitchen, Harry taking out the necessary ingredients to be used for their lesson. Eggsy watched on from his right side, bum leaning against the slightly low kitchen sink (and no, he wasn’t actively looking, it was just from his peripheral vision).

 

“Would you retrieve the metal shaker, please? It should be up there: above the cupboard on your left, if I remember correctly,” Harry requested while inspecting an unopened bottle of vermouth.

 

Eggsy obediently turned to move as bidden, but stopped short when he faced the cupboard.

 

“Um, Harry?”

 

Harry glanced at him at the query, eyes immediately drawn to the exquisitely long line of Eggsy’s neck. His boy’s head was tilted back because—

 

 _Oh._  

 

Harry immediately went over and reached up high for the shaker perched innocently atop a large, upturned pot on the cupboard, quite inadvertently crowding Eggsy against the countertop and briefly pressing against his lad’s back in the process.

 

Fleeting as the contact was, Harry was able to catalogue the firmness of black-clad back muscles, the slight tensing of broad shoulders, the hint of a blush making its way up an otherwise pale nape, and the delicious smell of cinnamon mixed with something so uniquely _Eggsy_ (sandalwood, he would later decide) he was sure to remember for the rest of his days. Not that Harry was gathering any intel, of course. It was just difficult to switch off Galahad’s superior observation skills sometimes; and if Harry had inhaled a tad more deeply in that moment—which he hadn’t ( _because the very thought was preposterous!_ )—it was purely unintentional.

 

Harry promptly stepped back from his protégé’s personal space and offered an apology for his oversight, which was of course, the only gentlemanly thing to do.

 

“I do apologise, my dear boy. I had misjudged the height of its storage.”

 

Eggsy mumbled his acceptance, eyes glued to the floor, cheeks a rather fetching shade of pink. Harry was hard-pressed not to smile fondly at the adorable sight. But alas, perfect little moments like this were not really meant to last, however much we want them to. He cleared his throat.

 

“Alright then, let us begin.”

 

The lesson went on without much incident, and Harry demonstrated various ways on how to make proper martinis and for which situation he should use each one. Once again making him proud, Eggsy proved to be a quick study, following instructions to a T, and perfectly making each drink on the first try.

 

“Bloody well done, my boy.”

 

As Harry could hold his alcohol well, he got nothing but a very slight buzz from all the drinks they consumed. Eggsy, on the other hand, was pleasantly tipsy, enough to release most inhibitions but not quite to the level of really losing himself. The same shade of his earlier embarrassment coloured his cheeks, his eyes practically sparkling as he grinned charmingly at Harry, preening at the well-deserved praise.

 

“Fanks, Harry! You’s the bes’ teacher, yeah?” Eggsy’s accent thickened ever so slightly.

 

“Thank you, lad,” he couldn’t help but smile back. Quite reluctantly, Harry looked away from the dazzling effect of those delightful dimples on his dear boy’s face as he checked his watch. “I suppose we should retire now, as we have a big day tomorrow. Drink this, then up to the guest room with you.”

 

An obedient puppy with his proverbial tail wagging like crazy, Eggsy drank the glass of water in one go before bounding up the stairs two steps at a time and swinging around the railings at the turns he made at the landings. Harry followed him up, chuckling all the way, only pausing when he saw the younger man just standing in the middle of the guest room.

 

“What’s wrong, Eggsy?”

 

Eggsy turned towards him, a frown furrowing his brow. “I di’nt bring a change o’ cloves.”

 

Harry’s eyes gravitated to pouting wet lips. “That’s alright, I can lend you a robe for the night and we can let the machine do its work on your clothes so you can wear them tomorrow. They will dry overnight.”

 

“Mmkay… Er, Harry?” the boy shuffled his feet and bashfully looked at him from underneath his long lashes, “Kin I git th’ red one?”

 

No person alive could say no to that.

 

Later on, Harry told himself that he was just giving Eggsy a shred of indulgence that the boy had been denied for most of his life as he watched his lad settle under the covers, snuggling comfortably into his favoured crimson robe. He spared no thought about the swelling feeling in his chest as he dimmed the lights and closed the door gently behind him.

 

* * *

Thankfully, no hangovers graced the Hart household that fine morning, and the two men were able to start the day on a good note. After an hour of getting ready, brunch included, the pair went on the familiar path to the shop, Harry dispensing lessons as they strolled on. Truth be told, he was quite excited for today’s outing. It was customary for a mentor to bestow upon his or her student a token of sorts, but it was not to Harry’s knowledge that his gift would later be known as the most extravagant one in the history of the Kingsman Secret Service. Though no rules governed this, it was unheard of for a proposal to own a bullet-proof bespoke suit before securing a place at the table. He was about to go for the dressing room’s door when he was stopped by Alfred, one of their resident tailors.

 

“I’m so sorry sir, but a gentleman is completing his fitting. Fitting room two is available.”

 

“One does not use fitting room two when one is popping one’s cherry.” Eggsy grinned madly as he snickered. Harry continued, “Perhaps I’ll show you fitting room three while we wait.”

 

Harry paid no heed to the amused and knowing twinkle in Alfred’s eyes as the older man’s gaze flitted pointedly between him and Eggsy (though Harry’s superbly-trained mind stored the memory for later perusal). He went straight to fitting room three with Eggsy at his heels.

 

“So we goin’ up or down?”

 

“Neither.”

 

“This it?” The mirrors reflected Eggsy’s disappointment. Harry couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he sees what’s behind the wall.

 

“Of course not. Pull the hook on your left.”

 

It was such a delight to see the wonder that bloomed on his boy’s face when the wall opened up to reveal a secret chamber, stocked full with Kingsman paraphernalia.

 

“Oh yes. Very, very nice.”

 

Harry immediately launched into a full-on lecture about men’s shoes, practically indoctrinating Eggsy in the ways of the oxfords and steering him not-so-subtly away from the brogues. He picked up a pair for Eggsy to try on (there wasn’t any doubt they were in Eggsy’s size—a seasoned agent like Harry could tell from a single glance), walking further into the room. He complimented the boy on his excellent weapons scores which then led to Harry pointing out the familiar umbrella and introducing the lad to the standard-issue pistol and its shotgun cartridges. Turning around, he saw that Eggsy had finished lacing up and promptly asked how they fit (not that he needed to, of course), to which his protégé replied positively.

 

“Now, do your very best impersonation of a German aristocrat’s formal greeting.”

 

Harry exasperatedly shook his head as the lad made a moustache of his left forefinger and raised his right hand in a parody of the salute to the infamous Fuhrer.

 

“No, Eggsy,” he admonished, and the young man only shrugged in response.

 

Harry puffed his chest out, stood to his full height, back as straight as can be, and clicked his heels to release the shoe’s hidden knife. Eggsy made his amazement known and followed suit, swishing his foot around in the air. Harry took the dramatic route (as always) in informing him of the neurotoxin (which inevitably led to Eggsy increasing his focus and paying him even more attention). Speaking of poisons, Harry picked up one of the pens and explained how it worked while Eggsy took off the oxfords to wear his own winged shoes. Bouncing up when he was done, Eggsy grabbed a gold-plated lighter.

 

“What about these? What do these do? They electrocute you?”

 

Harry watched closely for the change in his boy’s expression. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a hand grenade,” he answered, cool as you please. He was rewarded with the awed disbelief on handsome features.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Without missing a beat, Harry went on about how electricity was dispensed by the signet ring while Eggsy re-placed the lighter on the shelf. He almost smirked proudly at the bit of misdirection and sleight of hand from his boy; it was masterfully done and were he not so completely attuned to and hyper-aware of his lad’s presence, he would have missed it entirely. Harry began to walk out, looking every way the part of an all-knowing mentor as he threw out the order to put the item back with nary a glance behind him.

 

He judged that enough time had passed for Eggsy to take his turn in fitting room one. Unfortunately, it would take a few days for the tailors to finish the suit, so for now he had to content himself with his mind’s imaginings of the finished product. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see Eggsy in it, and oh, what a sight it would be.

 

* * *

The past twenty-four hours with his lad had been the best Harry’s had in a long time, even though the day had been soured by their encounter with Valentine (how dare he touch Harry’s boy with his filthy criminal hands?!) and his assistant (he should perhaps gouge her eyes out for looking Eggsy up and down as slimily as she did).

 

After making sure that the bug on Valentine was secure, Harry went back to the shop, arriving just in time to see Eggsy exit fitting room one. They resumed the gentlemanly lessons as they walked to and enjoyed a cuppa at a quiet café, and continued all the way through dinner at the new Italian restaurant Harry thought Eggsy would enjoy (which he did). Harry was reluctant to see the younger man off from the platform of the private tube to UK headquarters. Their interaction had just been so natural, the atmosphere between them so light and easy that Harry could openly admit that days spent with his boy were ones he would love to have a lot of. Harry had never been slow on the uptake, but it was only when he lay on his bed, surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood emanating from his robe, that his mind finally opened up to make sense of his recent thoughts and behaviour. Harry’s epiphany was something of a religious experience as it explained so many things that were once beyond his conscious notice.

 

_He was in love with Eggsy Unwin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** And there it is. Whew! I sure hope I didn’t bore you with all 2595 words of Harry subconsciously shaking his tail feathers at Eggsy. Also, I apologise for writing Eggsy’s accent out like that (the language major in me was screaming in agony as I typed every word while the writer in me patted my head for it), but it was the only way I could convey how thick his accent was already, that close to being drunk. Still, I can’t help but be a tad proud of it because I fucking researched the South London accent and listened to actual South Londoners talk until my language major ears could take no more. I hope I was able to do it justice. (I mean no offense to South Londoners, I think the accent has its own charms… I’m just referring to the grammar part of their speech.)
> 
> Talk to me, people! I’m starving for your words. Feed me. XD
> 
> Also, feel free to chat with me on tumblr if you want to.


	7. Chester King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur’s playing favourites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Oh wow. I’m just… I love you guys. Thank you so much for all the support so far. I’ve been rather busy with work and going back to school, plus I’ve been battling bouts of writer’s block at the same time, so this came much later than I wanted. But it’s here now so yay! All 4032 words of it. To be fair, this is a lot longer than the other chapters. I really am a slow updater; it’s just that I happened to have had a lot of time and inspiration last June and July (which, incidentally, are the months I have a break from school haha). Anyway, read on. I do hope you enjoy it.

“Ah, Galahad. The others were beginning to wonder if we were going to have a double toast.”

 

Unbeknownst to Arthur, who had yet to put his glasses back on, the other agents either sighed or rolled their eyes. If any of them had been as tardy as their colleague had been, they wouldn’t be receiving the proverbial slap on the wrist he was being subjected to at the moment.

 

Nobody knew how it happened, but as far as Kingsman history went, every single Arthur had genuinely favoured every single Galahad. It was no coincidence that the seat of Galahad was directly on Arthur’s right. The knowledge of this phenomenon had been passed down to all knights (well, except the Galahads, of course) from generation to generation. This was done to prevent any dissention caused by envy; not that it was really necessary since without fail, all the Galahads to date had been as gallant and pure as their namesake from the legend of old. They never abused their position as the favoured ones and seemed to be generally unaware of it. As such, no one could really fault them for it, especially since they were well-loved and respected by all. Truth be told, all the knights were fond of the Galahads they've had the privilege of working with. The fact that Galahads were always ( _always!_ ) the prettiest of them all probably helped a little. Now, in this modern day and age, the knowledge was passed on just to see if the rule would hold true through the test of time.

 

As the current Arthur finally donned the spectacles, everyone sat at attention and the mood sobered at the reminder of why they were gathered at the moment. They raised their glasses and offered a toast to their fallen comrade.

 

“To Lancelot.”

 

* * *

After the toast, Arthur left the knights with the instruction to turn in their proposals for Lancelot’s replacement not later than his prescribed deadline. Merlin had impeccable timing as always, appearing at the door as soon as the conference had reached its conclusion.

 

Knowing that Galahad would want to be the one to bring justice for James ( _the boy had a heart of gold, but would turn into a most terrifying avenging angel for those he cared about_ , he thought fondly), he had asked Merlin to begin the preliminary investigation into Lancelot’s death and prepare a mission dossier on it. The magician briefed them both on his findings, work impeccable as ever. Merlin wrapped it up and Arthur knew it could go without saying, but he still announced it just for the sake of formality. He turned to Galahad.

 

“It’s all yours.”

 

Merlin placed the packet on the table, well within Galahad’s reach and promptly left the room. Arthur internally sighed as he gave his agent a final reminder.

 

“And don’t forget your membership proposal.” They looked each other in the eye. “Try picking a more suitable candidate this time,” Arthur continued, though he knew it was a sore topic between them. He could practically see the boy’s hackles rising.

 

“Seventeen years, and still, evolving with the times remains an entirely foreign concept to you.” Brown eyes flashed. “Need I remind you I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that young man? He was as much Kingsman material as any of them. More so.”

 

Arthur would not contest that. It was true that Lee Unwin had bought precious years for Galahad, Merlin, and Lancelot—and by extension, Kingsman—but Chester King was an old man set in his old ways. Still, he tried to make Galahad see reason.

 

“But he wasn’t exactly one of us, was he? Let’s face it, Galahad. Your little experiment failed.”

 

Having had enough, Galahad rose from his seat and made for the door, but not without offering his unsolicited opinion.

 

“With respect, Arthur, you’re a snob.”

 

Arthur’s eyebrows rose at the affront. “With respect?” he parroted incredulously.

 

“The world is changing. There’s a reason why aristocrats developed weak chins,” was Galahad’s parting shot as he left Arthur alone in the dining room.

* * *

 

Like a rebellious teenager trying to prove a point, Galahad had, as expected, proposed quite the ruffian. Chester snorted condescendingly as he read through the files, clicking his tongue at the things he saw. It looked like the spawn was a lot worse than the father—at least Lee had been making something out of himself with the marines before being handpicked by Galahad. The boy, on the other hand, had been a druggie, a quitter, a thief, and all-around trouble-maker. Sure, the potential was there, but Chester truly believed that it would only stay as such. He sniffed, not at all noticing how he had quite literally turned his nose up at the chav boy. He didn’t know why Galahad didn’t understand that he was just giving the boy false hope.

 

_Even without intervention, the boy had been set to fail from the very beginning._

 

Not that Chester would rig the traditional selection. One could never really trust a spy, but one could trust that Chester King would stick to his traditions. Galahad will surely see the error in his own judgement soon enough.

* * *

Chester King had no children, but he supposed this is what it felt like to have a critically injured one as he stared at Harry’s prone form. Being the most skilled and down-to-earth of their current agent pool, Arthur was close to a hundred percent sure that Galahad had truly been taken by surprise and that this outcome had not been borne out of carelessness. The boy had learnt that lesson the hard way, the day Lee Unwin was lost.

 

His musings were cut short as Merlin entered the room, ready to report. He had most likely started to analyse the scans as he made his way there from the labs. He had the latest one on hand, as well as several others on his clipboard tablet. He looked up at Arthur and promptly reported his findings.

 

“His MRI shows no signs of concussion. No direct brain trauma at all.”

 

That was well and good, but the fact remains that Harry currently lay in a coma.

 

“How much longer can he be out?” Chester couldn’t help but ask.

 

“That’s the million-dollar question. We don’t know what he was exposed to in there.” The ‘ _yet’_ need not be spoken, and he had no doubts they would have definite answers soon. Merlin wouldn’t have gotten his position, had he not been the most resourceful analyst in Kingsman. Leaving that issue to more capable hands, Arthur went on to the next.

 

“What about Harry’s footage? It didn’t stream to his home terminal.”

 

“Encrypted and uncrackable. If and when he comes around, you might want to have a word with him about, ah, sharing his password.”

 

Arthur nodded, intending to do just that. He looked back at the prone knight on the bed, but his attention was diverted to the sound of the door opening behind Merlin. The most miniscule of frowns touched Chester’s brow, eyeing his least favoured recruit.

 

“Is he gonna be alright?”

 

The boy’s tone and demeanour could pass off for nonchalant curiosity with just a touch of mild concern. Why was he even there? No trainee should be wandering about this area, especially with a knight down and vulnerable, never mind that this particular one was Galahad’s proposal.

 

“You need to have patience, Eggsy. But there’s hope, ‘kay? If I were you, I’d concentrate on your training, make it through the tests—make him proud.”

 

The gradual softening of Merlin’s voice until it was as close as it could get to a whisper was very telling. He must have informed the boy and extended an invitation to visit Galahad. Not even forty-eight hours had passed and already their magician had picked a favourite. Merlin always had two or three from each batch he’d handled and there was something to be said about how those recruits would always be the ones on top. Merlin’s intuition was something of a legend in their circles.

 

Chester watched the young man’s false bravado fall away as the boy nodded earnestly at Merlin’s advice, the worry now spread over his features for all to see; making him seem even younger than he truly was. Somehow, Chester himself felt how deep the boy’s concern ran. The slight knit in Chester’s brow eased without his notice.

 

* * *

 

Even without Galahad on duty, Arthur’s work hadn’t diminished—there was always something going on that needed their brand of intervention in some part of the world, obscure or otherwise. It was thus why a week had passed before he was able to visit Harry at the medical wing. Paperwork waited on no one. He entered the room without preamble, not at all expecting to be greeted by the sight of Gary Unwin sitting on a low chair, asleep and slumped over one side of the bed, his hands clasping Harry’s in a gentle hold. Chester felt oddly out of place, but the quiet entrance of a nurse intervened before he could pursue the thought. She respectfully nodded at him as she went about her routine check of the patient’s vitals, recording everything on the charts.

 

“How has he been?” Chester quietly inquired.

 

“No changes, but he’s stable,” she replied just as quietly. She adjusted the IV drip and smiled fondly at the sleeping pair. “Eggsy’s been here everyday. Talks to Galahad so he knows he’s not alone. He comes whenever he has some free time,” she supplied.

 

Chester’s eyebrows raised. Well. He must have, seeing as the nurses seem to be familiar enough to call him by his preferred name. He turned away and walked towards the exit as the nurse draped a spare blanket over Gary.

 

It was a grudging thought, but perhaps the boy wasn’t quite as uncouth as Chester imagined him to be.

 

* * *

 

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

 

True to the conviction lit by Merlin’s words that day, Gary had thrown himself into his training. Skills that were already there were honed, mastered, and pushed to greater heights while new ones were learnt and refined without prejudice. Through each test passed (with flying colours, even!) and each jotted comment on behaviour and performance that merited praise, Gary had slowly destroyed Chester’s preconceived notions and distaste; and upon the rubble left behind, brick by brick, built the foundations to support Chester’s growing respect—and dare he say it?—fondness for the boy.

 

He knew that Eggsy had to be exhausted, worked to the bone daily with physical and mental exercises; and at this stage in training, it was common for the recruits to grab every opportunity to fall into Morpheus’ arms. And yet he found that Eggsy would always find time to sit with Harry and regale him with the adventures of each passing day, never doubting he would see those brown eyes open to the world once again. If such faith and devotion were to be given to Kingsman, Chester would be secure in the knowledge that the future of the organisation would be in good hands. There remained the matter of Eggsy’s roots, but Chester found himself on the verge of rationalising that Eggsy was a bright young man with quite the impressive learning curve, and perhaps he could be taught to fit in and become one of them with time.

 

Merlin had just informed him that Harry was up and about, and he was on his way to the medical wing when he saw Eggsy and the young Lady Morton going the direction he came from, presumably to walk their puppies on the grounds.

 

“Good afternoon, sir. He’s awake.”

 

The lad’s face was bright and open and contagious, and Chester couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“Yes, I was just on my way to talk with him. Carry on.”

 

He left the recruits to their own devices and resumed his pace, unaware that his usually stoic and snobbish demeanour was nowhere to be seen.

 

* * *

 

Harry and Chester tucked in as soon as the soup was served, but Galahad wasted no time in informing Arthur about the results of his reconnaissance the night before. All other agents have their debriefings in the office, but somehow Galahad almost always had his over a meal or some other more relaxed setting.

 

“Valentine didn’t let me out of his sight. All I got was this on the way in.”

 

Galahad pressed the side of his glasses to project the feed onto the wall-mounted screen, and went on to report about his findings on the Kentucky-based hate group that was the South Glade Mission Church; after which Arthur, on his part, also informed Galahad about the Scandinavian Royal Crown Princess Tilde joining the list of high-profile missing persons. That was about it for external affairs, and Arthur saw it fit to remind Galahad of the upcoming honeypot and loyalty test for that evening.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry quipped, smile smug and challenging, “Eggsy will pass both spectacularly, just as he had everything else.”

 

Chester agreed in his mind (how could he not, when he’d seen how Eggsy had been with Harry while he was in a coma?) but just hummed, “We shall see, my boy. We shall see.” There was no need to feed Harry’s satisfaction at the expense of his pride. It was anybody’s game at this point, and Chester really did have high hopes for the young Hesketh heir. Pity they could only take one.

 

* * *

 

Chester mostly spent his time in the tailor shop, especially when the paperwork for the day had all been properly filed. It didn’t hurt to reinforce the front their organisation had as a legitimate business, and it was bound to be suspicious when the ‘owner’ wasn’t seen at least every now and then to check on the establishment. As of the moment, Chester was selecting his ensemble for the loyalty test that night, looking over some coats on the pegs he knew were in his exact measurements. Quite the perk it was, to have custom-made clothing for him just about everywhere in the shop.

 

He already bade Alfred to call it a day despite the tailor’s protests, as it was just a few minutes to closing time. Chester waved the good man off, saying he would close up since he was just going to stay there to try and occupy himself before the test anyway. Alfred reluctantly obeyed. Chester was still the boss, after all.

 

He was startled in the middle of going through the pros and cons of the two coats he was choosing from by the sound of the door opening. The customer was cutting it really close, it seemed. It was still light out, but half past five was half past five and store hours have just officially ended.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re closing for the day. Perhaps you can return tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, of course. Are you the owner?” the man held out his hand. “Richmond Valentine.”

 

As Arthur, it was a necessity for Chester to master complete control over his facial expressions; and so without missing a beat, he smiled and shook the hand of the man that they were currently investigating.

 

“Yes. Chester King, at your service.” A pause. “It’s quite a surprise to see such a prominent man walk through those doors, I admit. However, our tailors have all gone home and business with us will have to wait until the morrow.”

 

The American laughed. “Oh that’s alright, I came here to have just a few minutes of your time, Mr. King… Although, I would of course come back tomorrow for something to wear at the Royal Ascot.”

 

Chester had little choice but to go on with the charade—he was currently unarmed and although Valentine came in alone, he was sure that the multi-billionaire was by no means unprotected. Chester would stand more of a chance if he could get his hands on some weapon, but he couldn’t risk going for fitting room three. He opted for the next best thing.

 

“Certainly. How about we go up to my office?”

 

* * *

 

Chester strode through the deserted halls at a brisk pace, making his way to the driveway out front. He waved his chauffeur away, saying he would not require the other’s services that night. The man gratefully took the unexpectedly early dismissal with a smile and wished him a safe trip. The evening had been too eventful, beginning with his talk with Valentine and ending with the huge disappointment Charlie turned out to be. This all stewed in his mind as he commandeered his vehicle, making sure his glasses’ feed were turned off. His jaw was set in a hard line.

 

He had made his decision.

 

* * *

 

“Merlin said you wanted to see me, sir?” Eggsy queried as soon as he opened the door.

 

Chester gestured towards the other chair. “Sit down.”

 

Eggsy moved to obey, the pug he’d chosen back on the first day never straying too far from his owner. Chester found his mood lightening somewhat from the adorable canine’s antics.

 

“Pretty dog,” he commented. “What’s his name?”

 

“J.B.”

 

_Of course._

 

Chester quelled the urge to roll his eyes. How much more cliché could you get? “As in James Bond?”

 

“Nah.” Eggsy smiled quite adorably and Chester found himself curious.

 

“Jason Bourne?” the smile was contagious and Chester found himself smiling back.

 

Still, Eggsy shook his head in the negative. “No.” Looking a bit unsure, the recruit supplied, “Jack Bauer?”

 

“Oh! Bravo.” Chester was amused despite himself. Eggsy chuckled at his reaction.

 

He’d best get on with it then.

 

“It pains me to admit it, Eggsy, but I think that one day you might be as good a spy as any of them.” He reached for the gun on the side table, pointing it directly at the boy and relishing in his baffled expression before smirking and offering it handle-up. No one would contest that Chester had quite the cruel streak sometimes. “Take it.”

 

He picked up his drink to take a sip before issuing the order. “Shoot the dog.”

 

He watched the boy struggle and knew at once that Eggsy would fail this test. It gave his pride some vindicated satisfaction for proving Harry wrong, but he also couldn’t help feeling it was a waste not to have such potential in their agent pool.

 

“Give me the gun.”

 

The boy pointed the gun right back at him, and for a moment Chester’s heart stuttered at the thought that Eggsy would really choose to shoot him in place of the dog. It was a blank, but the thought didn’t hurt any less.

 

The moment was broken by the crack of a gunshot.

 

“At least the girl’s got balls.” The lad relinquished the gun. Chester let the bitterness bleed through his voice. “Get out. I knew you couldn’t make it.” He watched the boy silently make for the door. “Go home.”

 

Chester sighed. There was only so much disappointment he could take. Little did he know that he would twice more be subjected to it later in the day.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Chester found himself in the virtual presence of his agents, toasting to a fallen colleague. The air was heavy with disbelief and sadness; Galahad was truly the most loved and respected. He sighed as he went through the motions, asking for proposals to fill in the vacated space. The conference ended with a heavy silence. Chester sat back and heaved a sigh.

 

It was then that the double doors opened to admit a distraught boy, eyes red-rimmed, face pale, voice raspy and accent thickened by emotion.

 

“Arfur… Harry’s dead.”

 

“ _Galahad_ is dead.” This was the best he could do to detach himself from his own feelings of loss and melancholy. He never wanted Harry to go like that, he’d been the son he never had… but there would be no convincing him about the coming new world, Chester knew. Either way, the result would be the same (at least, that’s what he told himself to assuage some of his guilt).

 

Despite his tone with Eggsy earlier in the day when the dog test was failed, Chester’s voice softened a notch in light of their shared grief. “Hence, we have just drunk a toast to him.”

 

“Well ‘en you know what that psycho’s doin’. How many people around the world ‘ave got those SIM cards—Valentine could send his signal to any of ‘em, all of ‘em! If they all go homicidal at the same time then—”

 

Chester cut him off. “Indeed. And thanks to Galahad’s recordings, we have Valentine’s confession. The intelligence had been passed on to the relevant authorities, our work is complete, and a most distinguished legacy for our fallen friend it is too.”

 

“And that’s it?”

 

The boy visibly deflated at his words, his face an open canvas of emotions; a splash of helplessness over the very picture of anguish and loss. Looking at him, Chester felt like the sun would never shine again. He belatedly realized that his heart went out to the boy in much the same way it would for Harry. Perhaps this was a chance for him to have that other son (more like grandson, really), as well as something he could do to honour Harry’s sacrifice. But of course, he had to be cautious in going about it. He beckoned him over.

 

“Come sit down, boy.”

 

Eggsy did as he was asked and sat on Galahad’s seat; and Chester thought about how fitting it was and how the boy seemed to belong there. He explained about Kingsman’s tradition when an agent dies and poured them both Napoleonic brandy from the decanter, making sure the poison-laced glass was on the boy’s side. If all went well, he wouldn’t need to activate the pen. He idly answered Eggsy’s question about the portraits before offering the glass to the boy. They toasted and drank to Galahad.

 

“Harry said you don’t like to break rules, Arfur. Why now?” Eggsy’s accent had thickened once more. Perhaps the alcohol further loosened his tenuous hold on his emotions.

 

“You’re very good, Eggsy. Perhaps I will make you my proposal for Galahad’s position,” was Chester’s reply, and he meant every word. But it was here that it would get tricky. “Provided of course that we could see eye to eye on certain political matters.” He picked up the pen and flipped the switch. “Can you guess what this is?”

 

“I don’t have to. Harry showed me. You click it, I die… I fought that brandy tasted a bit shit.” Chester saw the hard set of the boy’s jaw. The lad must be feeling the betrayal now, his soft ‘th’s devolving into ‘f’s. The boy was astute and observant as ever, a shame he didn’t make it through the selection because he would’ve become an excellent agent.

                                

“Bravo,” he praised the boy, the second time for the day.

 

They talk of Valentine and viruses and humans and mass genocide, and how it all made sense to Chester that it would be the right thing to do for the human race and the world to survive. The cards were all laid on the table and it was time for Eggsy to make his decision.

 

“I’d raver be wiv Harry. Fanks.”

 

Just like with the dog test, Eggsy had chosen to be against him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“So be it.”

 

It was with a heavy heart that Chester clicked the primed switch. He was going to lose another Galahad before he was even knighted. Still, it needed to be done. And oh, _what a fine knight he would make_ , he thought, as he realized that he was the one convulsing, having drunk his own poison. Very masterfully done in true spy fashion. He thought it a shame he wouldn’t see the agent Eggsy would’ve become past today even as profanities slipped uncontrollably from his mouth, in the scant moments before Death dragged him on into the darkness. And then he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Sorry about Eggsy’s accent. But yeah, I’m assuming everyone who’s reading this has watched the movie so I know you all know what’s going down. XD And I didn’t like Chester King much, but I really did try to get in his head for this (which is part of the reason why I kept on having blocks). I’m a bit iffy with the ending being a little dark, but oh well. -_-;;
> 
> On a lighter note, I hope you all like my headcanon that all Galahads are precious cinnamon rolls and are everyone’s favourites; not to mention they’re always the prettiest ones of the bunch! HAHAHAHAHAHA XD
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and please do leave me some words. I live on feedback and my writing will only be all the better for it! Help me improve? See you guys next chapter! But yeah, you can also find me on [tumblr](http://mybangsareblonde.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** For those who are confused, Harry has survived the shot to the head and became Arthur. Eggsy then took his place as the new Galahad. San Graal is old French for Holy Grail, and Schadenfreude is a German term referring to pleasure derived from someone else’s misfortune.
> 
> This is really really short, but there you go. Feedback would be lovely and much-appreciated. **Brit-pick as you please, but remember that manners maketh man.** Thank you.


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